


X-tober 2020 Fics

by starr234



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angstober, Darth Vader's A+ parenting, Flufftober, Flufftober 2020, Gen, Let Firmus Piett rest, angstober 2020, italics for days, luke skywalker has a bad day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:09:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26844928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starr234/pseuds/starr234
Summary: 2020 fic prompts for the various 'tobers.  Shameless father son feels, unsupervised use of italics, sometimes I would forget if I was writing for the angst prompt or the fluff prompt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	1. Angstober Day 2 - Stolen

“Don’t come any closer,” Luke gasped, holding his lightsaber up in a shaking grip. His face was pale and drawn and he pressed the ruin of his right hand into his chest, but still Vader approached.

“Luke, you do not understand.”

“I understand enough,” he cried. “You killed my father, you killed Ben, and now you want me to betray _everything_ they stood for?”

“I only want--”

“I won’t do it,” Luke exclaimed. “I _won’t_. You’ve taken _everything_ from me, and I--”

“I have taken _nothing_ ,” Vader snarled. It was Obi Wan who stole everything from _me_. _He_ destroyed your family, child. Not me.”

Luke’s grip on his lightsaber faltered. “What do you mean? I don’t--you’re _lying_.”

“Am I?” Vader’s voice was smooth and sinister as ice. It twisted into Luke’s gut.

“I...”

Vader took one slow step forward, then moved so quickly Luke couldn’t react. He tried to raise his saber blade, but his left-handed grip was shaky with fear and pain. Vader ducked sideways, around the blue blade, and closed one large hand around Luke’s grip on the saber, one around Luke’s left wrist. He deactivated the blade and twisted his grip on Luke’s wrist until the hilt clattered to the floor.

They stood like that for a moment, Vader holding fast to Luke’s left wrist and hand, Luke staring up at him with his heart hammering in his ears.

“Tell me again, Luke,” Vader said softly, pulling Luke closer to him. “Am I _lying_?”

He wasn’t. Luke didn’t know how, but he could _feel_ it.

“No.”

“Do you want to know what happened to your father?”

No.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Vader’s grip on his wrist tightened, but it wasn’t necessary. Luke was frozen in place by the heat of Vader’s gaze.

“Obi Wan mutilated him and left him for dead in a river of lava, then stole you at birth and hid you away. Your father spent the next two decades believing you had died with your mother.”

“I don’t understand.”

Vader reached up and rested his hand on Luke’s cheek. The soft, almost gentle touch was a stark counterpoint to how tightly he still held Luke’s wrist in his other hand. “You understand perfectly.”

“But... _why_?”

“Obi Wan’s treachery ran deep. But now, his failure is complete. I have you back, and I will _never_ let you be taken from me again.”

Luke closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to think or how to respond. There was a scream somewhere inside him, and it was all he could do to keep it contained.

Vader brushed his thumb softly against Luke’s cheekbone, then pushed Luke’s sweat-damp hair off his forehead.

He never once loosened his grip on Luke’s wrist.


	2. Flufftober Day 4 - Wounded

The last thing Firmus Piett expected to see upon entering Lord Vader’s quarters was Luke Skywalker asleep on the couch.

His jaw dropped, and so did the stack of datapads in his hands. He fumbled them for a moment, nearly caught them, and then they hit the floor with a clatter.

This was it, then. This was how he died. Because whatever the explanation was for this, he was certain Lord Vader wouldn’t be inclined to share it with him. 

Unwilling to leave a mess as his last legacy, Piett knelt and began gathering the datapads with numb fingers. One had bounced across the floor out of reach, and before he could lean forward to retrieve it, it lifted off the ground. Piett stared as the datapad floated lazily towards him, forcing himself to take it and add it to the stack as if nothing out of the ordinary were occurring. As if a prominent member of the Empire’s Most Wanted List and Lord Vader’s personal obsession wasn’t propped up against a pile of pillows on Lord Vader’s couch with a _blanket_ wrapped around him, blinking sleepily up at Piett with his hair sticking out at odd angles.

“That last one got away from you,” Skywalker said, then yawned. He at least had the good grace to cover his mouth and look embarassed. “I hope it’s not broken.”

“I’m...er...I’m sure it’s fine,” Piett responded. He tightened his grip on the treacherous datapads and stood straight, considering his next move. If this was a trap for Lord Vader, it was an extraordinarily bad one. He’d quite literally caught Skywalker sleeping on the job.

Still, Skywalker was a Jedi, and had obviously captured Lord Vader’s attention for a reason. It was best not to underestimate him. Even if he did look remarkably young and slight, stretched out on a couch that Piett had never seen anyone use before. He knew better than most, appearances could be deceiving.

“You seem surprised,” Skywalker remarked.

“Candidly, yes.” Piett sat the stack of datapads on a small table by the door. Best to have his hands free, just in case. “I am accustomed to finding Rebel spies in our ranks, but not sleeping in Lord Vader’s quarters.”

The boy laughed softly. “I’m no spy. And you can stop worrying.” He pulled the blanket back, revealing a cast encasing his right leg. “I’m not much of a threat right now.”

Piett kept his gaze steady. Appearances, and all that. “You’ll forgive me for disagreeing.”

Skywalker shrugged. “Up to you. You’re looking for Vader?”

“ ** _Lord Vader_ **and I have a briefing at 1900, yes.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “It’s 1900 already?”

“Past, by now.”

“He’s late. He should have been back _ages_ ago.” Skywalker closed his eyes, his brow furrowed and his face drawn with worry. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was blank and unseeing. Just as Piett was starting to worry, the boy blinked, shook his head and focused back on Piett. “I can’t find him,” he said. “This isn’t right. Can you com him? He might be--”

“Stop,” Piett said firmly. Skywalker, for all that he wasn’t a member of the Imperial Navy and likely held no respect for Piett’s authority, stopped. “Under no circumstances will I _com_ Lord Vader at the request of the Rebel I found in his quarters unless you explain to me _exactly_ what is going on here.”

The boy looked well and truly frightened now. Perhaps his ruse, whatever it was, was starting to unravel. “You know what the Force is, right?”

“Yes.” Jedi and their bygone religion were strictly taboo subjects in the Imperial ranks, but one didn’t survive in Lord Vader’s service for long without developing a healthy respect for his strange abilities.

“Vader and I can both use it. It lets us...it’s hard to explain, but we can sense each other. We can use it to communicate, and to track each other’s locations.” His expression softened for a moment. “It’s how he found me when I hurt my leg.”

Piett was more open-minded than his predecessor had been, but even he drew the line somewhere. “Are you trying to tell me that the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy is secretly communicating with a Rebel Jedi _using his mind_?”

Skywalker looked pained. “I told you, it’s hard to explain. And we weren’t _secretly communicating_. Until a few days ago it was mostly him talking and me ignoring him.”

“I see,” Piett said flatly.

“No,” the boy exclaimed, “you don’t! He always _answers_ when I reach out, always. And he’s not answering now and I can’t sense him, which means he’s either shielding or something’s happened to him.”

“Shielding?”

“It’s...” Skywalker puffed out an exasperated breath. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. You have shields around this ship protecting her from things trying to harm her - asteroids and proton torpedoes, things like that. We can do the same thing, to protect our minds from intruders.”

“Perhaps,” Piett suggested dryly, “Lord Vader is occupied with something which he doesn’t want a member of the Rebel Alliance ‘intruding’ on.”

Skywalker looked stricken, and so young. How could this boy, barely into adulthood, be responsible for so many Imperial lives? “I know you don’t trust me,” he said. “You have no reason to, and my-- _Vader_ wouldn’t trust you so much if you were easily fooled. But hasn’t he ever given you an order that didn’t make sense, that was based on one of his hunches or feelings, and it turned out to be correct? _That’s_ the Force. I have the same hunches and feelings, and right now they’re telling me that _something_ is wrong.”

His voice was completely earnest, and layered iwth a depth of emotion Piett couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Please,” he added softly.

Piett understood the Imperial system better than anyone. He knew all too well that military protocol demanded Skywalker be arrested, if not shot on sight. Conversing with him, _comming_ Lord Vader at his request, was beyond foolish. A junior officer making a mistake like this would have been stripped of his rank, either officially or through Lord Vader’s alternative methods of staff management.

But Piett had not become an admiral through blind adherence to protocol, least of all where Lord Vader’s hunt for Skywalker was concerned. The efforts expended always seemed to far outweigh any strategic benefits to be gained by Skywalker’s capture, but they had carried on relentlessly.

Which suggested, Piett knew, that there was more to Lord Vader’s obsession than military strategy. The way he had stared into space after the Millenium Falcon had impossibly escaped from the trap laid at Cloud City, then walked off the bridge as if he carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

The way Skywalker looked at him now, eyes wide and pleading.

There was something here that he didn’t fully understand. But, like Skywalker had said, sometimes, when it came to Lord Vader, the right course of action didn’t always make sense.

He took out his comlink. Relief washed over Skywalker’s face. “One last question,” Piett said. “Why, exactly, are you here?”

Skywalker looked perplexed. “I broke my leg.”

Piett wanted nothing more than to roll his eyes, but years of military training stopped him. “You’re _Luke Skywalker_ ,” he said, “and I found you sleeping, unguarded and unrestrained, in Darth Vader’s quarters. Why are you _here_?”

“Ohhh,” Skywalker said, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that his presence would raise questions. “He knows I’m here, if that’s what you’re asking. He brought me here.”

“Are you a prisoner?”

A fleeting, pained expression crossed the boy’s face. “I don’t know.”

Piett nodded. This was enough. It would have to be. He had a feeling asking more questions - learning anything more about this strange boy and his place in Lord Vader’s life - would be hazardous to his health.

He activated his comlink. Before he could enter Lord Vader’s frequency, the boy gasped softly. Piett lowered the comlink in alarm. “What is it?”

“He’s--”

The door slid open and Lord Vader entered. Piett snapped to attention as Vader paused just inside the doorway.

“Admiral.” There was a warning note in his voice that Piett had heard too many times before.

“Lord Vader,” he said. His voice was steady and his heart rate was normal. He had learned long ago that fear only sharpened Lord Vader’s temper. “I apologize. I arrived for our 1900 briefing and--”

“And you weren’t here,” Skywalker interrupted. “He was just about to com you for me.”

Lord Vader tilted his head. “I was delayed over an hour. Why did you wait until now?”

Skywalker’s cheeks flushed and he glanced down at the blanket covering his legs. “I fell asleep,” he muttered.

There was a soft noise from Lord Vader’s respirator, one Piett had never heard before. He walked over to the couch and smoothed down Skywalker’s unruly hair. The boy closed his eyes and put his own hand over Vader’s.

Piett began mentally putting his affairs in order.

“I apologize, little one.”

Piett moved on to listing all the people he would have said goodbye to.

“I couldn’t sense you. Are you alright? Where _were_ you?”

“Having a conversation where I could not be interrupted, and where it was imperative that your presence not be detected.”

Skywalker went very pale. “You mean--”

“Yes,” Lord Vader said. “You are not safe here anymore.”

The boy’s grip on the black-gloved hand tightened. “What do we do?”

“Not now, Luke.” He turned to Piett, who held his head high and hoped it would be quick. “Admiral, your decision to hear Skywalker out rather than arrest him was sound.”

“I--” For a moment Piett wasn’t sure what was happening. “Thank you, Lord Vader.”

“I trust you will continue to show the same good judgment in the future.”

There was no mistaking Lord Vader’s meaning, and only one answer that would keep him alive. “I will, my lord.”

“Good. There is a Corellian VCX-Series fighter in my personal hangar. Have it refueled and fully provisioned before the morning shift.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Are you sending me away?” Skywalker interjected softly.

“Dismissed, Admrial,” Lord Vader said, then turned back to Skywalker as if Piett had ceased to exist. “Not by choice, little one.”

Piett didn’t hear Skywalker’s murmered answer. He was already moving - was lucky to be alive - was halfway through the door when Skywalker called out to him.

“Admiral Piett?”

He turned, remembered belatedly that he knew the boy’s rank. “Yes, Commander?”

Skywalker smiled faintly at the title. “Thank you for listening. Instead of arresting me, I mean.”

Piett wanted to tell Skywalker to take care not to fall asleep out in the open again, that other officers would not be as patient as he had been. But Lord Vader’s hand rested heavily on the boy’s shoulder, so he simply nodded and said, “of course.”

The door slid shut, leaving him finally, mercifully alone in the corridor. He stood very still, allowing himself a moment to try to make sense of what just happened.

Piett had never seen Lord Vader show a shred of kindness to anyone before, much less receive kindness from anyone who wasn’t looking for something in return. Why had Skywalker spent the last three years running if this was how they behaved towards one another?

Maybe Skywalker, like Piett, hadn’t known that Lord Vader was capable of kindness.

Skywalker seemed to have made his decision. It was time for Piett to make his.

He could tend to the Corellian fighter as Lord Vader had commanded, undoubtedly committing treason and helping a wanted criminal return to the Rebellion. Or he could contact Imperial Centre - for that was surely who Lord Vader’s private conversation had been with - inform them that a Rebel Jedi was secreted away on board his ship, and be responsible for destroying the heart he hadn’t known Lord Vader to have until just minutes ago.

It was no decision at all, really.

Piett straightened his collar and set off. He had precious little time left before he was due back on the bridge.

But it was time enough to refuel a starfighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey I have a tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/starr234

**Author's Note:**

> yo I have a tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/starr234


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